


That which said by the fire is sweeter

by thislittlekumquat



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, IT'S ALL I CAN WRITE, if you like grell's hair this is the fic for you, like literally if you've experienced the jack the ripper arc you're good on this one, very soft porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21555925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thislittlekumquat/pseuds/thislittlekumquat
Summary: Grell likes to take her pleasure as often as she can get it, but she's as generous as she is greedy. And Angelina isn't about to say no to any degree of intimacy, not now.
Relationships: Angelina Dalles | Madame Red/Grell Sutcliff
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	That which said by the fire is sweeter

Grell didn’t mind murders. The bloodier, the better, as far as she was concerned. She didn’t have the luxury of just willy-nilly traipsing through humanity to seek these things out; so when her work brought her to the most interesting bits, it was  _ such _ a thrill.

Humanity was interesting. Colorful, ugly, dull, beautiful. Most of her colleagues were very much nothing. Boring was perhaps the most enthusiastic word she could summon for them. She had Will, and a few others, but. Humans held her utterly in thrall. And murders usually gave her a front row seat to the best of the interesting.

It was her job to be impartial, step in to judge if need be, but she rarely even considered altering the murdered human’s fate. That would ruin the enchantment of the thing. And those important, earth-moving humans were so few and far between; knowing Will, and his supervisory council on high, she’d never be assigned to any case even remotely smelling of such a decision.

The fleeting, hopeless nature of the murder was its beauty, even when the dying itself was slow.

So she surprised herself one day by falling in love. Temporarily, of course. It was the passing infatuation it was easy to develop when one looked at some beautiful human or other. It was certainly nothing approaching real, everlasting love, no. She was fairly certain she already had that, and if she didn’t, she’d never have it again. 

And he would forgive her for this indiscretion, eventually. They lived long lives, after all.

The step of Grell’s heel on the steeple above the alley alerted the woman. She was surrounded by a halo of red, moonlit cobbles, and her eyes as she glanced up feverishly at the noise were red, redder than the blood Grell loved so much. And they were haunted.

“Oh, my, my! You’ve done such a glamorous job!” Grell said as she leapt down from her high perch, landing daintily in between rivulets of human life dribbling between the bricks. “You’ve made me very busy, darling, you’ve jam-packed my register with cases to clear. But not your own, lucky you.”

She didn’t add that it was plain as day, she’d be dead sooner rather than later, herself, the way she was carrying on. She could tell at a glance that the woman cared little about a thing like her own death.

My, but she did look so ravishing covered in blood, though - hair elegantly mussed, makeup near-immaculate, eyes staring up at her in bewildered wonder. It nearly made Grell shiver.

“But don’t worry, dear,” Grell continued, “I understand how you feel very well, I do. Those hideous slatterns deserved to die. Just like you, I want a baby of my own. I’ve been watching you, you know. Neither of us has… The parts, you see.” She reached out to pull the woman - Angelina, her name was, what a fantastic name for such a hell-bound beauty - into a gentle embrace. “Let me help you,” she murmured, petting Angelina’s hair, mindless of the blood and grime. “We’re alike as can be. We can accomplish your goals even more easily, together.”

The woman, precious thing, seemed to snap out of the stupor she was in. “What do you want with me?” she asked, suspiciously. Grell tittered.

“I want to help you, silly woman, I already said that. I’m very good at facilitating death, you know.” The word  _ death _ rolled off of her tongue deliciously, as always, and she felt a roiling emotion flow up the woman’s spine. 

She made no move to extricate herself from Grell’s embrace.

“Whyever would you do that?” she asked, faintly, hands tentatively snaking around Grell’s waist.

Smile widening, the reaper replied, “Because, my dear, I’m weak to a beautiful woman covered in red.”

~

Angelina was at home, in bed, scrubbed near to raw after a hot bath and sipping some strong, black tea. Grell hadn’t the foggiest idea how to do a proper tea service, but she knew how to brew the stuff strong and potent. She had to, in her line of work.

She’d dulled the color of her hair, swapped her spectacles, removed her makeup. She would concoct further cosmetic changes later, when Angelina was asleep. She entered the room with an extra blanket that the woman had directed her to find. Being a butler wouldn’t be so bad. The downstairs staff seemed so weak-willed. They were easily coerced into following her orders as well as their lady’s. Which was just as well - Grell was no mean cook, and an even less mean account keeper. But she could easily give orders.

“My lady,” she purred, voice still dropped a decibel or so for confounding effect, should anyone suspect her of being anything other than an eccentric and queer little man. “I’ve brought you the blanket you requested. Will you be needing anything else?”

Angelina didn’t look at her for a long moment. Then she glanced up from her tea cup and replied, “What makes you think that there will be a repeat of tonight? Will you stay around if months go by and I decide to leave my murdering behind me along with my dearly departed?”

Grell merely shrugged, and plopped the blanket smartly onto the bed, just out of Angelina’s reach. “I would like to know the answer to that myself. Don’t disappoint me, my red madame.”

Angelina grimaced gently and leaned forward to take hold of the blanket, her teacup held steady, the liquid inside barely moving. The steadiness of her hands despite her desire for basic creature comforts did not escape Grell’s notice. She smiled.

In an adorably surly fashion, Angelina glanced up again and said, “That will be all, Grell. Please attend to me again in the morning. I take coffee and eggs at seven o’clock sharp, daily. Don’t be tardy.”

Grell felt a shiver up her neck as Angelina’s voice grew confident, the way she’d known it would sound. “Yes, ma’am, I shall attend to you then. Good night.” She lifted a hand to wiggle her fingers, and winked, before turning on her heel and striding silently out of the room.

~

Each day with Angelina was its own peculiar adventure. The woman liked to live life, and Grell loved that about her. But often, the evenings were empty and lonely, and Angelina was prone to dark moods and trenchlike depressions proportional to those alpine joys of the daytime.

Grell couldn’t say she didn’t like these moods. They lent themselves to a particular sort of victory. Grell liked to distract, to seduce, to thoroughly entrance, to win. Angelina - her Lina - with her tendencies towards the melancholy and angry, was easily distracted by Grell.

Grell liked to send all of the servants home or to their quarters far from Angelina’s by a somewhat early hour. Grell, as the Madam’s butler, could take care of her master through the long night, she assured them.

So it was easy, then, to quietly open Angelina’s door as the woman sat on a chaise-lounge, sipping on some brandy and staring moodily into the hearth at the far end of her suite.

“Lina, my dear, you shouldn’t be drinking that at this hour.”

Angelina didn’t look up. “It’s not even ten o’clock. I’ll drink what I please, and you can be pleased to shove off.”

Grell laughed, a sound like molten razors in the dim room, and slunk across the plush rugs, shrugging smoothly out of her formal coat and loosening her tie and collar as she went. She slid onto the seat next to Angelina, arms gently encircling her, hand sliding down one arm to cup her fingers around Angelina’s where they held the glass. It was almost empty.

“That’s the opposite of both shoving and off,” Angelina said, though her brow arched in that way that Grell knew meant she was attempting to keep a straight face. 

The question was, what was the face she was trying to keep hidden?

It didn’t matter. Grell brought the glass to Angelina’s lips, stronger than her by far, and tipped it until Angelina finished - the last gulp was larger than she might have taken alone, but the woman merely swallowed heartily and hissed through her teeth, finally turning to Grell.

“Put this away, you miscreant. Take it away from me. Who said I wanted you tonight?”

Grell tittered again. “You want me every night, some way or another, lovey. But I do as you wish, as always.” She gracefully pried the glass from Angelina’s fingers, reticent to loosen as they were, and glided back to the tray on a rack by the door. She finished removing her tie and left it crumpled in a heap next to the glass, and slipped out of her shoes as she returned to the fireside.

“The brat really has an independent streak,” Angelina said, with no prelude.

Grell considered this as she took a seat once more, pressing close again. She had to admit, she didn’t pay much attention to the boy, Lina’s nephew, because he was always attended by the drop-dead (Grell wished he would) gorgeous butler. Who was, of course, not human either. Grell daydreamed momentarily about sinking her teeth into his throat while she replied neutrally, “He certainly does, doesn’t he.”

Angelina turned to face Grell again, one hand on the butler’s chest, fingertips brushing her exposed clavicle, as she pushed her back and flung one leg over her lap possessively. “Pay attention to me,” she said imperiously, with that spark Grell loved so much.

“Of course, Madam,” Grell replied, honestly enthusiastic, as one hand came up to caress the leg in her lap. Lina’s dressing robe was loose, barely restrained around her waist, and her shift wasn’t in much better condition. One delicious curve peered at Grell from under the lacy collar as the woman leaned further towards Grell.

And Grell, for her part, made no pretenses at not looking. Her free hand laid itself gently, palm flat, against Lina’s belly, and she took the ankle closest to her and yanked, smoothly pinning Madam to the chaise on her back.

One of Angelina’s hands came to clutch at Grell’s sleeve, and she murmured, “Must we risk the upholstery again?”

Grell laughed despite the thrill of irritation at such a practical sentiment. “We can simply stop, if you wish,” she said, her hand lifting slightly as if she had lost interest.

“Absolutely not. You dare disturb me at this hour and not follow through?”

“Then you can take the upholstery out of my salary, Madam,” Grell replied, grinning her toothiest smile as she leered down at the woman, hand on the belly pressing down firmly again and hand on the ankle snaking its way north, all the way north.

Angelina gasped, and writhed a little, hips bucking uselessly as she was held in place. “You… hah, fiend, Grell,  _ please _ ,” she murmured. Her voice was sweet and small and full of air, and it rang nicely in Grell’s ears.

“Please  _ what _ , Lina?” she replied as she added a finger and curled them into that spot she knew how to find all too easily, while her thumb remained obstinately at bay.

Angelina whined in frustration, and one of her hands was on her own chest, thumb circling over the sheer fabric, which she couldn’t quite dispatch of, not while she was like this.

“Please just fuck me and spare me the sweet nothings,” she half-spat, half-sobbed.

Her hair was fanned out around her head, a brilliant splash of scarlet that reflected the dancing lights from the fire. Grell felt a twitch in her trousers and bent over the woman at her mercy, another finger joining the rest to curl mercilessly with its fellows. 

“You’d skip the prelude?” Grell asked, smirk on her face as Angelina’s head tipped back and her eyes fluttered shut.

“I just... I want…” 

Grell dispatched her thumb with ruthless accuracy, not quite giving her what she needed, but pressing her close enough to draw half a scream from her lips.

“What do you want, Lina, my Lina?” Grell purred, hand traveling from abdomen up her ribs, pushing aside fabric, fingers tracing heaving skin as they came to rest between breasts. Another press, to hold her in place, so she would focus. Grell felt another twitch between her legs - she was eager now as well.

Angelina had to compose herself for the briefest of moments, before she whined, tears threatening in her eyes, “I want you, Grell, please,  _ please _ ....” She managed to look Grell in the eye, pleading, desperate for that closeness, the real object of this game for her.

Grell couldn’t help a small growl, and she slowly, torturously slid her fingers out, Madam shuddering and clenching regretfully - it was so cold and slick and she hated it and she knew it would ruin this lovely silk she’d chosen all those years ago with him, and oh, oh.

Oh.

Grell had wasted no time in taking herself out, and pressing against Madam, one of the woman’s legs over her shoulder. Her ponytail, haphazard at the best of times, was losing strands rapidly as the ribbon gave up its ghost. The hair, growing and becoming red without its magicked affectation, spilled all over Angelina, tickling her legs, her belly, her wrists where she reached up to grasp Grell’s shoulders. She felt as if perhaps Grell’s hair would end up inside of her, it was all around her, a curtain of scarlet making it so all she could see was that face, with those green eyes glowing in the dim firelight.

“As you wish, Madam,” Grell said, smiling an enticingly gentle smile as she pressed forward, free hand next to Madam’s head anchoring her weight above, so she could look at Angelina’s face as she worked into a rhythm.

Lina’s face went from almost concentrating, eyebrows drawn together and lips pouted to something out of Grell’s filthiest dreams. She smiled again and gasped a little as she grunted Angelina’s name soothingly, even while the woman clenched around her deliciously.

“Angelina, my sweet Lina, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you,” she cooed, in between small moans of her own. She turned her head, hair brushing all over Angelina’s exposed skin, sticking in the sweat there, and pressed kisses to the leg on her shoulder.

Then she shifted, lifting the leg higher, and going faster, eager to see her favorite sight - Angelina not thinking about any of the ghosts that plagued her, for a brief moment. Her own pleasure would follow, but it would only be made sweet by that success. She couldn’t have anyone thinking of anything other than her at times like these.

“Sing for me, my Lina, tell me how you love me,” she murmured, leaning forward so she could whisper hotly in Angelina’s ear. 

The woman moaned, the sound keening high into a whine, and all she could say was “oh” or “Grell” with each consecutive thrust as they were delivered with deadly consistency. Her back arched, and Grell’s hand smoothed quickly over skin and under fabric to support her lower back, pressing them together intimately, slick against slick. With one final effort she paused there, sunk to the hilt, holding Angelina in place with her supernatural strength, and her lover sobbed, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of Grell’s neck and saying, “Please, love, I need you, please, pl-”

Grell was satisfied with that, her own vision swimming at those desperate words as she finished what she’d started, holding Madam against her as she shook, fingers twisting in Grell’s hair and pulling, the pain a delightful spark that was sufficient to let the reaper finish as well. She no longer looked remotely like the mousy butler she was escapading as - she was every inch the beautiful monster Angelina somewhat tenuously loved, if only because they were kindred spirits.

Angelina went slowly limp in Grell’s arms, weakly trying to cling to her. But it didn’t matter, Grell was lowering her back to the cushion. She even, rather kindly she thought, made sure that Madam’s shift was underneath her. She didn’t actually want to ruin the silk cushions. Not tonight anyway.

Angelina dozed as Grell fetched water and cloths, and when she was next properly awake, she was in Grell’s arms, being deposited in her bed in a clean shift, this one even more fraught with lace than the one she’d put on herself an hour ago. She moaned softly and Grell leaned over her, brushing the hair back from her forehead, even as her own hair trailed all over the bed and the woman tucked into it.

“You were lovely for me,” she said, looking as smug as a cat who’d gotten not only the cream but the fresh fish too.

Angelina wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. She merely flushed a little and said, “You dispatched with your duties rather thoroughly, didn’t you, my pet?”

Grell laughed at that, and leaned down finally to kiss her forehead. “Don’t say it like being your pet is such a bad thing. You make a dashing mistress, Lina.”

Angelina couldn’t help it, she softened at the nickname, spoken even in the colder light of not being pressed to Grell’s chest. She could almost believe it meant something longer than the next few weeks, or maybe months. They couldn’t do this forever, of course, regardless of how things turned out. “You may go,” she said, but with fondness in her voice.

“Of course, Madam. Sleep well, for me?”

She nodded, not breaking their eye contact, until Grell winked and blew out the candle she held. 

“Good night then, Lina dearest.”

Even the light from the far-off embers in the hearth dimmed and went out as Angelina’s eyes, heavy from the long day and the recent exertion, closed without further ado, the sound of Grell’s sighs and rustling hair like a ghost in her ear.

**Author's Note:**

> I've always headcanoned that Grell and Angelina actually genuinely had a thing for each other. So I wanted to give them a chance to bone like they meant it. This is, and I cannot stress this enough, soft. Except for Grell's teeth, which are always Like That no matter how soft she gets.
> 
> I have had a zero tolerance policy for the Grell's gender debate for almost as long as it's been a thing, please do not bring that shit here to this sacred house where we're all just horny and wanna read some fuckin. Thanks!


End file.
